Playing God
by dutiesofcare
Summary: In the midst of events, Clara ends up killing someone and the Doctor is there to comfort her.


**A/N: This was written in an attempt to prove a point to my friend, so Marissa (twelvenclara), this is for you.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.**

 **I don't have any beta readers so I apologize for any eventual grammar and orthographic slips.**

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Clara Oswald watched as the blood poured into her hands.

She was frozen; stuck within her own body and mind. She heard a loud crash when the person standing in front of her fell to the floor, but didn't jerk back. Her eyes were creating a wet layer in front of her pupils, making it hard for her to see through them, but she didn't need her vision to tell her what had just happened.

No; the last happenings of her life would most likely haunt her until the end of her days.

 _"_ _Clara!"_

When her name echoed through her ears, she desired to turn away from _him_. She had no right to look at him in the eyes after what she had just done. Not after all the kindness and bravery he had showed her to be. Taught her to be. But she couldn't, not when her limbs were stuck next to the humanoid and her eyes fixed down to the bright piece of metal in her hands.

"Clara?" the Doctor seemed hesitant as he stumbled upon her figure. He studied her image for a single millisecond and his hearts sped up at the sight. He rushed to her side, trying not to think of the worst given the red liquid along her hands and fingers, "Clara, are you hurt?"

The shook of her head was almost imperceptible, but that didn't stop him from circling around her and running his hands up and down her torso for assurance. She didn't flinch. The Doctor stood between her and the corpse, carefully taking the sharp blaze away from her and tossing it to the floor. "Clara?"

He noticed her lower lip begin to tremble as a tidal wave, but no sound came out of them. He cupped the sideline of her face into the palm of his hand, and yet she refused to look at him. Whatever had happened there, it surely had traumatized her. _He had to get her out of there_.

Cautiously, he slipped his wrists under her armpits and raised her in the air. For once in her life, she didn't protest. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, dirtying his skin and hair with a blood that didn't belong to her, but neither of them seemed to care. Clara buried her head in his shoulder as he walked a long journey towards the TARDIS.

The Doctor sat her in his big puffy chair by the console, kneeling in front of her so their eyes would be almost at the same height. He didn't bother to take them away from the space base, he knew they were safe inside of the time machine; _Clara_ knew so. He wasn't leaving her side, not just yet. Not ever.

He felt a twitch coming from his hearts as he watched her pull her legs up and rest her chin between her knees, too much like a frightened child. He wanted to snuggle her closer and promise he would take care of her, but Clara wasn't the kind of woman who needed anyone to protect her. She was able to defend herself and the events of the prior minutes had just proved that, even if he was still in the dark about what had happened.

"He tried to hurt me," her words only came several minutes later, only when the silence was staring to overweigh them. Her face expression was still the same from when he had first found her; full of pain, self-disgust and self-disdain; "But I was quicker than him."

His brain didn't take long to understand the meaning behind her saying. He blinked a couple of times, trying to form any coherent thought, but it wasn't so simple comforting someone right after they had _killed_ another living being. "Clara," he started, "You were defending yourself. It wasn't your fault."

For the first time, she dared to regain the eye contact. Her pupils were burning with a fire so strong that even the misty veil of salty tears wasn't able to put off, "It wasn't my fault?! I _killed_ him, Doctor. He is dead because of _me_."

Had she had any intention of sounding pitifully, she failed, for nothing could be heard past the shame. Shame towards who she was and what she had done. Had she noticed the tears freely descending her cheeks, she made no effort to wipe them away.

"And why would it be any better if you were left for dead, rather than him?" he prompted, gently rubbing his thumb right on top of the path of her droplets. She shivered slightly at the touch, but he concluded it wasn't because of him, but for whatever that had tried to be done upon her.

"He didn't deserve to die, no matter what he would have done to me," her words were soft but harsh on herself, "His life was taken away from him."

"You're only saying that because no harm was inflicted towards you, Clara," he gesticulated, thanking all the gods that he had ever heard of that she hadn't been hurt. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if she had gotten wounded under his care. "Had he hurt you, you'd wish him the same done to him."

"No, I wouldn't," she stated, fiercely, clinching her fists so tight they would soon become white.

"Why not?"

Clara turned her gaze away almost that instantaneously and the Doctor sighed. He rested her eyes upon her for a few more seconds before getting up and sitting in the armchair. Any and every boundary he had ever settled upon their relationship was about to be broken as he involved her shoulder in his arm and allowed her to lean onto him. "Why don't you tell me what happened, Clara?"

Her lack of immediate comeback left him for sure she wouldn't, but he was soon startled by the soft kiss of her voice, "It all happened so fast… I was alone, and then, I wasn't."

The Doctor ran his fingers through her messy hair, in attempts to comfort himself that she was still _there and breathing_ more than comforting her. Between breathes, she carried on, "I don't even know why I entered that room, I just did, and he was behind me, knife in hands. And I couldn't die, not so far away from home."

Her stare was fixed in a random spot in the console room but her eyes were replaying the images of the attempted attack so neatly she could have sworn she was back and frozen in that moment, "I don't know what he wanted to do, but he came onto me, his face screaming in desire of blood. So I fought him off, the best way I could, and somewhere during the fight, the knife ended in my hands.

"I told him to back away, for both our sakes. He didn't; he must have assumed he would overpower me, as he was still taller and bigger than me. But the moment he jumped into me again, the knife… the knife ended up right in the middle of his chest and his blood poured out of him. I don't think he ever managed to live long enough to know what had struck him."

He listened to her story as carefully as she was listening to the sound of his heartbeats. "Clara…"

The young woman quickly ran the back of her hand against her cheek, "I didn't mean to kill him, alright? It just happened. I was careless and now he's suffering the consequences."

"If you didn't mean for it to happen, then why are you punishing yourself so hard? Clara, he's no less guilty than you are. Heck, he's _guiltier_ than you. Unlike you, he _meant_ to attack you, to hurt you; how's that okay? He made his choice the moment he decided to disrespect you and now he's paid the price. Some things are just meant to happen."

Clara shook her head, his vocables of wisdom being no more than dust to her. "I've killed cybermen before, even a couple of daleks, but not once a human with a mind and body. Not until today. And because of _me_ , people are going to suffer his loss. How's that any fair?"

"Clara—"

"Don't _Clara_ me, Doctor," she spat, and yet didn't move a muscle away from him, "Somewhere in this universe he must have parents, siblings, friends, kids… A family. People who are going to have to learn how to cope with the pain of a beloved one being brutally taken away from them before his time was up. You have no idea how that feels like, Doctor, _no idea_ …!"

He was silent. She was right, he had no idea how it felt to have his family be taken away from him in such a manner because he was the one to _take their lives from them._ His upcoming words came as nothing more than a sincere request, "Do you?"

Clara pulled away from his touch in a flash, and for a moment, the Doctor thought she would storm off to her bedroom. He watched as her legs fell to the floor and her head curved towards his, her eyes reflecting a sadness that wasn't there just seconds before. "Y-yes."

He bended his back, in a vein effort of once again having their eyes at a same height. "Clara?" he didn't need to say nothing more. The simple call of her name already said everything.

She looked short of breath as she drowned in the blue oceans of his eyes. Her lips fell half opened, but it was a long time before any proper sound left them, as if she was unburying words not said in forever, "My mother."

The Doctor's eyes widened – he had no idea. He knew she had lost her mother at an early age, he had even attended the her funeral, although he would have never guessed the woman she looked up to the most had been killed in such a brutal manner. "I'm sorry," he cried, feeling her pain to his hearts, knowing his statement would make no difference, but it being the only one he had to give.

Her tongue traveled the borders of her mouth, "It was a long time ago, Doctor, _sorrys_ no longer make a difference," she hadn't intended to be rude, perhaps she hadn't even noticed the rudeness behind her assertion, "She was a lawyer, she caught a bad case, _it happens,_ they told me. But that didn't ease the pain my father and I went through. It didn't help the yearning to have her back, the anger to have her taken away so unfairly. No one should ever have to endure this sorrow, and yet I'm putting _so many people_ through it."

The Doctor made no other questions about her loss, sensing it to be still a sore subject, perhaps its soreness would last forever. If she ever felt ready to discuss it any further, he would be there to listen to her, but that day wasn't today. "I can't even imagine how much it must have hurt to lose your mum like that, Clara. It's noble of you to think of _them_ instead of _him_ ," his hand awkwardly met hers, "But he was a soldier. He and his beloved ones agreed that this could happen the moment they waved him away."

"Is that supposed to make it hurt any less?" she pondered, observing as his body fell from the armchair to the seat cushions, landing right next to her.

"No. Just like the pain of losing your mother, I don't think it ever stops hurting," he explained from self-experience, resting his hand against the hard bones of her spine, "Would you like to bury him?"

"What?!" she was taken aback by his require.

"Yeah, you know, find him a beautiful piece of ground so he can rest in peace. I'll let you pick the planet. Just say yes and we'll take him there," he forced a smile upon his face, afraid that it wasn't going to be met by hers.

But it was. "Yes," the shape of her mouth turned into a curve so slight it was barely noticeable, but it was _there_. It was genuine. Clara allowed her head to fall upon his torso once again, "I'd like that very much."

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 **A/N: Any feedback is much appreciated :)**


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